In Your Atmosphere
by catchthesparks
Summary: He was supposed to do the job, and move on. He was never supposed to get attached, but he did. Now the girl he thought he had left behind is suddenly back in his life, thanks to Cobb, and she's definitely not the same. EAMES/OC.


'I shouldn't be here.' he thought to himself while entering the pitch black room. 'But when has that stopped me before?'

He paused for a moment after quietly shutting the door behind him, his eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness that surrounded him. Once he could see, he moved over to the bed, admiring the sleeping figure that lay there. He knew he didn't have long, but he just had to see her for one last time, before he faded back into obscurity.

Cobb's voice filled his head, and almost let out a groan of annoyance. "Get in and get out Eames, I mean it, or the whole operation will be blown." What more could a few minutes hurt right? It's not like he was exactly a stranger in the house. But if someone were to find him in the girl's room however, was a different story.

His task had been simple, infiltrate the house, fancying himself a personal assistant of sorts to the subject. Get to know him, his routine, the people he keeps close, everything. Most importantly, discover who he tells his secrets to. When the time finally came, that's who he would be impersonating. It didn't take long for Eames to figure this out, but he kept telling Dom he still needed more information on the subject. He's always been excellent at lying, as now his subject had become her.

Ever since the first job he had done, Eames had lived a life of fugitive. Never staying in one place for too long, never becoming attached to anyone. When Cobb needed him, he knew how to find him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to think about what life would be like if he stopped and took her away from all of…this. A small smile formed on his face, and then instantly vanished when her petite figure started to move.

It always started like this. The movement, the incoherent mumbling, and then, on the particularly bad nights, the screaming and crying. The first time he had witnessed this, he had no idea what to do. He had simply been walking past her room after leaving a meeting with the subject, and had heard her voice. At first he thought it was nothing, and then he realized she was crying. There was no one else around, so he had peeked his head in to check on her. As quickly as it started, it was over, and she was quietly breathing normally. The next day, he had asked her what she had been dreaming about, and she shrugged her shoulders carelessly, explaining she could never remember, but it happened almost every night.

It had become common for him to find his way toward her room, always around the same, and stayed near until he knew she was free of discomfort. It broke his heart to be standing there now, actually watching her for the first time. The look of pain and terror on her face was obvious, though her eyes were closed. He longed to reach out and hold her, but refrained, afraid of waking her and scaring her even more.

In the waking hours, she was absolutely lovely. Full of life and excitement, radiating warmth wherever she went. They were complete opposites in almost every way imaginable, but it was one of the main reasons as to why he found himself drawn to her. With his job and the people he was generally around, he was the dictionary definition of a pessimist, and she spread positivity and optimism like no one else he'd ever known. She wasn't naïve, nor did she turn a blind eye to the evil the world could produce, she simply chose to fight off with smiles and happiness. Though this intrigued him, Eames knew this was also why he could never try and see her after the job was done. He lived his life in the shadows, only emerging when necessary, and she deserved much better than that.

He looked at the clock on the wall, noticing the lateness of the hour. If he wanted to make it back to their headquarters in time, he was going to have to get his things and leave now. The girl's movement had ceased, and he knew whatever troubled her so at night, had stopped. He wanted so much to help her, to figure out what the source of all her pain was, but he knew that was impossible. Carefully, he pushed the long, red hair out of her face, and saw the trace of a smile on her lips.

'Perhaps she's dreaming of me now.' With much difficulty, he started to make his way out of the room. He took one last look over his shoulder at the bed, and let out a sigh. This would be the last time he ever saw her.

Or so he thought.

* * *

**So I honestly have no idea if I'm going to continue this or not. I have a general outline of where I would like for it to go, but I'm still unsure. Any and all feedback is appreciated!**


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